When I entered the kitchen, Margaret was standing by the center island.

She was polishing a silver tray, her movements rigid and precise.

She looked up as I entered, her eyes searching my face.

“He wants me gone,” I said, leaning against the counter for support.

Margaret stopped polishing.

She set the cloth down slowly, her stern face tightening.

“The Senator is a bully,” she said quietly.

“But he is a bully with the power to freeze this entire house.”

“I have to leave, Margaret,” I said.

“I cannot let him lose his shipping routes because of me.”

“Where will you go, child?” she asked.

The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswered.

I had nowhere to go.

My savings were nearly depleted, and the winter weather made finding a new place almost impossible.

But staying meant destroying the man who had given me a second chance.

“I will find a way,” I said.

“For Emma’s sake, I have to.”

Just then, the back door of the kitchen opened.

A cold draft swept across the floorboards.

One of Julian’s guards stood in the doorway, his coat covered in light snow.